Dangerous Games
by TheSparklingPinkElephant
Summary: Totally, completely AU. Neal is Alex's sister, Kate is his mom, Reese is his dad, and El, Peter, Sara, and Mozzie are new friends at high school. His family is kidnapped by Adler, a cohort of Keller's, and now Neal has to work with his COMPLETELY new friends to find them... Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**So...I wrote this when I was twelve and I decided to finally share it. It's not that professional-sounding, but be nice!**

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Hi, I'm Neal Caffrey. Er, my full name is Neal George Caffrey, but I go by Neal.

You've probably heard of my older sister, Alex. For those of you who haven't, she's an internationally known detective. Her "sleuthiness", as I call it, actually came in handy a couple of months ago, when she got Mom and me away from this creep Matthew Keller. Keller had been basically holding us as slaves for thirteen years, and really the only reason we had stayed was because Keller had told Mom that he'd saved her life one time at the Grand Canyon. The only reason she believed him was because she had amnesia and wouldn't have known either way.

So now I have an older sister and a father! I mean, I know _technically _I always did, but now I know them.

Oh, and I now go to the same school as Alex. I'm fourteen, so I'm a freshman, while Alex is a senior.

Well anyway, enough talk. Now it's time for _my _adventure.

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I picked at my dinner, not saying anything as Mom, Dad, and Alex talked about the mystery that Alex had solved the day before. Usually I'd be pitching in and giving my input, but I wasn't really listening. It was Sunday, the night before my first day of school.

I have to admit, I was a little nervous. I'd never gone to a public school before—what should I expect? And what would the other people know about what happened to me? Would they treat me better or worse for it? I wasn't on government records, so how much trouble would it be for school?

Oh, well. At least Alex would be going with me. We'd grown close over the past two months, and she promised that she'd help me at school and make sure that I fit in.

But I still had my doubts. I would be a freshman, and she would be a senior. That was a huge difference; she was bound to have a different schedule than me. She couldn't help me _all _the time, could she?

After dinner, Alex volunteered to clean up with me, and Mom and Dad went out into the backyard. I could hear the porch swing going back and forth as Alex and I cleared off the table. As Alex scrubbed down the table with a washcloth, I washed the dishes.

"So what's on your mind, Neal?" Alex asked from behind me. I knew without looking that she was stretching to reach the far end of the table. "You barely said a word during dinner."

"Nothing," I said, furiously scrubbing the bottom of the rice pot.

"Don't give me that," Alex said. "It doesn't take a detective to know that something is bothering you."

"Just nervous about school is all," I said.

"What's to be nervous about?" Alex leaned around me and rinsed out the washcloth.

"Normal stuff, I guess." I replied. After a moment I asked, "What do they know about...about Keller?"

"A lot, if they watch the news," Alex said, walking into the pantry. Her voice was slightly muffled as she continued speaking. "The story was broadcast everywhere in a five hundred mile radius—Mom used to be really famous around this area of the country."

Alex came out of the pantry holding a broom and dustpan. She started sweeping the floor.

"A lot of the kids are going to know a lot of what happened, and they're going to want to hear it from you, too." Alex continued. "Your first month at school is probably going to be pretty hectic, but you can't really do a lot about it."

I concentrated on scrubbing the rice pot, which by now was as shiny as when it was bought. Realizing this, I rinsed off the pot and set it on the counter, and then went to work on the plates.

"But you'll be fine," Alex said. "I'll be there, and if you need help you can just come and find me. But I'll bet you won't need a lot of help, anyway—you're Neal Caffrey, for crying out loud!"

I had to smile a little at that. See, Alex, Mom, Dad and I have a little joke between us—whenever one of us feel down, we'll say words of encouragement, and then we'll say, "You can do it. You're (insert name here) Caffrey, for crying out loud!" We say it because we're all aware that we're famous on some level, and it doesn't hurt to joke about it.

"Yeah," I said, still smiling. "I can do this."

_Bzzzzzzzzz._

I rolled over and shut off the buzzer on my alarm clock. It was six-thirty, and I had to get ready for my first day of school. I took a quick shower, and then threw on some jeans and a T-shirt. After tying the laces on my tennis shoes, I went into the bathroom and combed my hair, and then grabbed my already packed backpack and ran down the stairs. When I got into the kitchen, Alex was there, all ready for school. She was eating a freshly made cinnamon roll. There was a tray of warm ones on the oven. I grabbed one and stuffed the whole thing in my mouth. She laughed.

"Whoa there, tiger. Slow down. There's no need to be rushed. I have my car."

I shrugged, but I didn't say anything. Just then Dad came in behind me. He squeezed my shoulder and kissed Alex on top of the head.

"Are those cinnamon rolls I smell?" he asked, sniffing the air.

"Yup," Alex answered. "Your frosting is in the fridge."

"Wonderful," Dad said, opening the refrigerator. He bent down and took out a brick-sized tub full of homemade frosting, and then took out the pitcher of orange juice. He poured himself a glass of the juice and then took two of the cinnamon rolls. He dipped—or should I say dunked?—one of the cinnamon rolls into the tub, coming out with it totally encased in the frosting.

"You want a little cinnamon roll with that?" I joked as Dad took a huge bite.

"I'm really a kid at heart," Dad mumbled through the thick frosting.

"He does that every time I make cinnamon rolls," Alex explained. "And because there's always leftovers of the frosting, he has that by itself, just eating it by the spoonful. But if I make just enough frosting for the cinnamon rolls—leaving no leftovers—he gets upset."

"Like I said, a kid at heart," Dad said, taking another bite. I chuckled.

"Well, Neal, are you ready for school?" Alex asked, turning to me. I nodded and hitched my backpack higher on my shoulder.

"Ready," I said. Alex grabbed her backpack from the table and hugged Dad sideways.

"Love you, Dad." she said. She grabbed her keys from the counter.

"Love you too, Alex. Good luck at school. And Neal, same goes for you."

I nodded, and then turned and ran out. I ran out to Alex's sky blue Mustang convertible and hopped into the passenger seat. A moment later, Alex slid into the driver's seat. She started the ignition and drove out of the driveway, driving toward Diana and Clinton Jones' house. Diana and Clinton were her two best friends in the world. Along the way she lowered the top. When we got there, both Diana and her twin brother Clinton came out with their backpacks.

Diana opened the door and got in. Clinton got in on the other side.

"Hi, Neal," Diana said. "You nervous?"

I shrugged in response. Clinton and I fist bumped, something we always did when greeting each other. I don't even remember how it started.

"Wow, Clinton," Clinton said, rolling her eyes. "Way to be covert." Alex shifted the gear and started driving toward the school.

"What else am I supposed to say?" Diana asked defensively. Although they were twins, they couldn't be more different. Diana liked mysteries and shopping, and Clinton liked automobiles and electronics. They also argued _a lot_. It was something I'd never understood but had eventually learned to accept.

Diana and Clinton continued bantering back and forth the entire six-minute drive to school. I have to admit, I was a little relieved when we got to the school.

"Hey, guys?" Alex said as we stepped out of the car. She was talking to Diana and Clinton. "How about you go and get your schedules set up, and I'll help Neal."

Diana and Clinton nodded and ran off.

A couple of minutes later, I stared up at the school from the bottom of the stone steps. It was three stories high with pillars in the front. _Meadow Springs High School, Home of the Tigers. _I took a deep breath, and, with Alex beside me, I stepped through the front doors of my new school.

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**Review?**


	2. Chapter 2

**wow its been forever since i updated! so sorry guys...:/ but i got it up! and as a thank you for your long wait, i'll just put up a couple of more chapters now, too...:) hope you enjoy!**

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Fifteen minutes later, Alex and I walked into Mr. Stone's History class. Most of the other students were already there, talking in clusters and sitting on desks. Alex walked up to Mr. Stone's desk, where he was sitting, and I followed right behind.

"Hi, Mr. Stone," Alex said cheerfully. The man was about fifty years old with salt-and-pepper hair and warm blue eyes. He looked up at Alex.

"Hello, Alex," he said, standing up. He put out his hand and Alex shook it. "How's my favorite student?"

"I'm doing great, thanks." Alex said. "How about you?"

"Disappointed that break is over," Mr. Stone said. "But the time comes every year." he noticed me standing behind Alex. "Who's this?"

"This is my brother, Neal." she motioned to me, and I stepped forward. "He's in your class this semester."

"Hello, Neal," Mr. Stone said, pumping my hand up and down. "It's great to meet you. I look forward to having you."

"Thank you, sir," I said.

"Oh, there's no need to be formal," Mr. Stone said. "You can call me Henry, if you wish. However, your sister refuses to—has since I had her in her freshman year. She says it's too weird to call a teacher by his first name."

"I'd have to agree, Mr. Stone," I said. I liked this guy already.

Mr. Stone shrugged. "Oh, well. That's what most of my students say. I suppose I should stop trying."

"Neal, I need to get to my statistics class," Alex said, looking at her watch. "If I'm late again this year, Mrs. Ford is going to be so annoyed she'll give me extra homework even if I'm not late another day."

"Oh, you have Janet Ford?" Mr. Stone said sympathetically. "Sorry. I hope you get a better teacher next semester."

"I would if Mr. Aguilera came back," Alex retorted. She gave me my school schedule, saying, "If you need any help I'll be in room 417 C. Good luck."

"Bye," I said. She walked out quickly and down the hall.

"Well, choose any seat." Mr. Stone said. "Keep in mind that's where you'll be sitting for the rest of the semester."

I nodded and looked about the room. Most of the seats were taken. I chose one near the middle of the room and sat down. A girl with short black hair and side bangs had her nose buried in a thick book to the right of me, and a slightly thin boy with shaggy blond hair sat to the left of me, snacking on a bag of chips. He saw me looking at him and gave me a smile. I smiled back.

"Hi," I said. "I'm Neal Caffrey."

"Peter Burke," the boy answered. "How long have you been in the area? I've never seen you before and I've lived here my whole life."

"Oh, I've never gone to a public school." I answered. "I was home schooled from a mansion a few miles from here."

"Wait," Peter said. "Are you Alex Caffrey's brother?"

I nodded. "Yup, that's me."

"So you're the guy who had been living at that mansion with those criminal dudes and your mom?"

"Yeah," I said. "I never liked it there, but I don't like to talk about it a lot."

Peter shrugged. "Okay. But a lot of people are talking about it. Expect to hear it."

I smiled grimly. "Yeah. I'm expecting it."

Just then a boy walked up to Peter. He had dark skin and dark hair that matched his eyes. He was muscular for a fourteen-year-old, and about average height. But his anger was totally above average.

"Get outta my seat, Burke." he said to Peter. Peter quickly started to get up as though he was scared of the other boy. I was confused, but I was angry now, too.

"Wait a minute," I said, standing up. I was the same height as him. "Peter was there first—it's his spot."

The boy with dark hair turned to me with raised eyebrows. "You're new," he said, "So I'm gonna give you a real good lesson, right now. You don't cross me. You do, and you're in a lot of trouble."

I was completely unaffected by his empty threat. "Huh," I said thoughtfully. "So...who died and made _you _King of the Idiots?"

"Hey, Wilkes? Back off." the girl said from her desk. She'd watched the whole exchange. "This is the first day of school—you don't own any seat. Peter, stay there. It's your desk." She went back to reading her book.

As Peter sat back down, the other boy and I eyed each other. Finally the other boy said, "You just found yourself in a lot of trouble."

I raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. He shoved past me and sat in a seat two rows behind me. I had a feeling I'd just made my first enemy.


	3. Chapter 3

After History I had Algebra with Mr. Brazelton. Mr. Brazelton was probably about seventy years old and had white hair that he tried to comb over the bald spot on his head. He was tall and thin, and he had a pointed nose. His mouth was set in a frown and he walked jerkily.

Peter had Algebra with me, and he sat to my left. The African girl from History sat behind me. On my right was a girl with waist-length strawberry-blond hair and side bangs. She had a light sprinkle of freckles across her nose and her lips were rosy pink. She had bright blue eyes that sparkled a lot like Alex's. She wore a pink sweater over a white shirt and had a pink and white striped headband set in her hair. She also had a pink bead necklace with a matching bracelet and a pink skirt and pink sandals with a small heel. Pink was definitely her signature color. She introduced herself as Sara Ellis, and then went back to re-applying her lip gloss.

Fortunately, the other boy wasn't in Algebra. But when I walked into Spanish, the boy was already sitting in the middle of the room. I swallowed a groan and sat down in a desk next to the wall.

To tell you the truth, I wasn't sure why I was put in Spanish, anyway. I'm fluent in Spanish—Keller and some of his thugs and Mom had spoken it all the time at Winnbee Mansion, so I learned it like I learned English. But then again, I could earn high school credit from taking it, and I wasn't going to fail, because that's like asking, "What is the translation of 'purple' into English?" So I would for sure get the credit. And that was just fine with me.

"_Buenos dias!_" A thin Hispanic woman wearing a flowy red dress came in cheerfully. She had full red lips and long black hair that curled at her waist. "My name is Sanchez, and I'm your Spanish teacher this semester! Now, I'm going to assign each of you some new names for in here so that you will really get the feel of the Spanish language." She went around the room, reading off from a clipboard. I was given the name 'Marcos', and the boy from History—whose name was actually Ryan Wilkes—was given the name 'José'.

The class passed fairly quickly, mostly everyone just getting to know each other. After Spanish I had P.E. I walked to the boy's locker room, where lots of other boys were being given different lockers and gym uniforms. I took a gym uniform and chose a locker. I changed into the uniform, leaving my clothes in the locker. I snapped the lock shut and walked into the gym, where about two dozen other boys and girls were assembling. Unfortunately, Ryan was also there. I ignored him and walked over to a thin boy with black hair and glasses who stood alone.

"Hi," I greeted him. "I'm Neal."

"I'm Mozzie," the boy said. "I'm new to the area. You?"

"Sort of," I said. "I'm new to the school district. I used to be home schooled."

"Why'd you stop?"

His question took me by surprise, and I didn't know how to answer. "Well..." I fumbled for the right words. "Because...well, because..."

"Because...?"

"I...I don't know how to explain it." I said finally. "Have you heard of Alex Caffrey?"

Mozzie shrugged. "Sure. Who hasn't?"

"Well, that's my older sister."

Mozzie's eyes widened. "No way. You're _the _Neal Caffrey? I heard about how you were kept at that mansion by that guy. What was it like?"

I shrugged. "Normal, I guess. I grew up with it around me, so I didn't really know how to react to it until I came back. If I were to go back now, I'd say it was freaky. I mean, if you were to hear what CGK and his cro—"

"Wait, what's 'CGK'?" Mozzie asked confusedly.

"Creepy Guy Keller," I explained. "It's what my family calls him. Anyway, if you were to hear what CGK and his cronies said, you'd think that the movies put the swearing and threats mildly. Sometimes the violence, too. But I was used to it, so I didn't even pay much attention to it. But somehow my mom knew it was wrong even with her amnesia, and she tried to get them to stop, but they would ignore her. I guess that's how I knew subconsciously that I should never do the kinds of stuff CGK and his thugs did."

Just then a shrill whistle sounded throughout the gym. It was so high-pitched that everyone covered their ears. But then it was replaced by a woman's voice.

"Alright, everyone! Line up, single file!"

Everyone quickly did so, struck by the woman's tone. It reminded me a lot of Keller's voice when he got mad and was reminding everyone who was boss. So I guess I wasn't as affected by it as everyone else, because I was used to the harshness. Nevertheless, I did as told; I knew that when someone used that tone, you did not argue or you'd regret it. Of course, this woman probably used different methods of punishment if you didn't do as told—you know, that were _legal_—but it was still wiser to obey.

An athletic woman with dyed dark red hair that was pulled into a ponytail walked up to the line. She was probably about as tall as me with dark eyes and tanned skin, and well-toned muscles. She wore a T-shirt with the words _MEADOW SPRINGS HIGH SCHOOL, Home of the Tigers _spread across the front and a pair of black jersey shorts, the same thing everyone else wore. She had a whistle on a lanyard with her name tag around her neck. The tag read that she was Coach Perez.

"Alright, I know that some P.E. teachers go easy on their students," Coach Perez said. I was half-tempted to salute her. "Well, not me! I expect you to come in your gym uniform every day, including the tennis shoes! You are not to come to me with petty problems that you can't run or you have a disorder, because otherwise you wouldn't be in my class! There will be no fighting, no back talk, no cheating, no tardiness, no excuses, and no gum! Everyone, I'd like twenty laps around the gym right now. Go!"

All of us were off, none daring to defy Coach Perez. She just had something about her that made you feel the need to obey.

"Drill sergeant," I heard one girl mutter.

"No, she's a slave driver." her friend responded.

"Either way, I hate her."

I, personally, didn't see what was so bad about her. Sure, she was strict, but I'd gone through a strict-and-not-to-be-messed-with person. Hadn't they? Okay, so maybe not as major as the one I did, but didn't they have parents or next-door neighbors like that?

Just then the girls' locker room door burst open and the African girl from my History class came running in.

"Sorry I'm late," she panted. "My locker wouldn't close, so I had to go and get a new one from the teacher back there, but she was on the phone so I had to wait—"

"No excuses!" Coach Perez barked. "Everyone else is running twenty laps around the gym. I want you to run thirty. Maybe that will help you remember to be on time next time."

The girl's jaw dropped. "But it wasn't even my fault!" she protested. "I told you my locker—"

"Would you like to run forty laps instead?"

The girl shut her mouth and started running. She caught up to me and, recognizing me, she whispered:

"What's with her?"

I shrugged, slowing to her pace. "She's just strict, that's all. She told everyone the rules right before you came in."

"And those rules are...?"

I quickly whispered all of the rules to her. When I was done, she quickly swallowed her gum. Tying her hair into a ponytail, she said:

"My name's Elizabeth Burke. You can call me El. I'm from India. How 'bout you?"

"Neal Caffrey," I answered. "I'm from here."

"Oh, I remember hearing about you on the news." El said. "It was only a brief mention, but I thought it would be cool to get to know you. What a coinkidink."

"Co-what?" I asked, unsure if I'd heard her wrong.

"Coinkidoink," El repeated. "It's my word for coincidence. I replace a lot of words with different stuff. It just comes naturally for me, I guess."

I nodded. "The only other thing I've ever heard like that is the code that CGK and his guys would use when smuggl—"

"Wait. CGK?" El repeated, understandably confused.

"Creepy Guy Keller," I explained. "Sorry, my family just calls him that, and I just say it without thinking. He's the guy that almost killed me, my parents, my sister, and my sister's best friends. But anyway, he and some of his guys would use a weird code when smuggling stuff out of the country and sending messages and stuff. But that's a little different than what you do."

"Yeah..." El said, sounding hesitant.

"But I probably shouldn't be talking about this so normally and expecting you to understand." I said quickly. "Sorry, I'm not even thinking."

"No, it's fine!" El said quickly, all traces of hesitation gone. "I mean, sure it's a little weird to be talking about stuff like this, but it's kinda cool, too. My life is _way _mundane. And I always thought that your sister was cool, solving all of her mysteries, so if you're _anything _like her, that is way awesome, possum."

"Possum?"

"Another one of my replacement words," El explained.

"Caffrey! Burke! Stop jabbering and run faster!"

I smiled at El grimly and sped up. At least one thing was the same as back at Winnbee Mansion; strictness.

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**please review? it would make me very happy!**


	4. Chapter 4

After gym, I changed back into my regular clothes and went to lunch. El was right beside me as I stood in the line for the food.

"So how long did you live in India?" I asked her, taking a tray.

"About five years," El answered, taking an apple from the tray set out. "My parents were African, but I was born there in India, but then my mom left me at an orphanage when I was a few weeks old. I lived there until I was five, and then I was sent to America on a ship with lots of other orphans." she grabbed a ham and cheese sandwich and a packet of mustard. "I was adopted by a young couple who was recently married, and then became a U.S. citizen a couple years later. So, here I am." She took a chocolate chip cookie from another tray that was set out and then glanced at me.

"So, if you were at that mansion when you were born, then you wouldn't have a birth certificate. How does that work out? I know you have to have one to get in to the school."

I shrugged. "I honestly don't know. My mom and dad said that they would handle it." I picked up my filled tray and walked over to one of the tables. I sat down, and El sat across from me.

"When you were at that mansion, what was it like?" El asked as she used her teeth to open the mustard packet. Once she got it open, she squirted it into her sandwich. "I mean, did that CGK guy ever hurt you if he didn't get what he wanted?"

I shrugged, biting into my apple. "Sure," I answered. "Or he'd have other people do it for him."

"How'd he treat your mom?" El asked. She bit into her sandwich. "I mean, 'cause she's a girl, and all."

"Just for clarification, being a girl or a boy doesn't stop him from doing anything." I said. "But he never hit her, if that's what you mean. He would just treat her like a servant, having her run errands, get him water and food, that sort of thing. See, he'd told her that he'd saved her life one time at the Grand Canyon and she'd gotten amnesia from the accident there, so he had to keep up that story and never hurt her." I bit into the apple again. "He'd just use me for leverage."

El nodded, taking another bite of her sandwich. "I can understand why you call him CGK," she commented. "He _is _creepy. And crazy. You should call him CCUIMOAGACICESTLAWVK."

"Huh?" I asked, unable to follow. I would _so _not be able to remember all of those letters, and it would be much faster just to say 'Keller' or 'CGK'.

"Creepy Crazy Ugly Idiotic Moron of a Guy and Criminal I Can't Even Stand to Look at Without Vomiting Keller," El said. After a pause, she said, "Okay, so maybe it would be faster just to say it as words. So that'd be...C Cuimoaga CI Cestlaw-vk." she chuckled. "Nah, I think I'll stick with CGK. It's shorter."

"What's this I hear about CGK?"

Alex had heard the last part of what El had said as she'd come over to my table. She sat down next to me, setting her tray in front of her.

"Alex, this is my friend, El." I told her. "We met in gym. El, this is my sister, Alex."

"Hi," El said, shoving the rest of her sandwich into her mouth.

"We were just talking about what we should call Keller. El came up with the idea of CCUIMOAGACICESTLAWVO, but then said it in word form; C Cuimoaga CI Cestlaw-vk. It stands for Creepy Crazy Ugly Idiotic Moron of a Guy and Criminal I Can't Even Stand to Look at Without Vomiting Keller. But then she decided to stick with just 'CGK' or 'Keller'."

"You _remembered _all of those letters?" El said incredulously as she swallowed.

I shrugged in response and turned to Alex. "So what're you doing here? Seniors and freshmen don't mix lunches, and I don't even _see _any other seniors."

Alex waved a hand as though swishing away a fly. "Oh, I pulled a few strings. See, when I was a freshman here, I found out who kept stealing the lunch money every Friday, amounting to about six hundred dollars a day, including the snack bar. So when I found the missing eight thousand bucks and stopped the culprit, the administration said they were 'forever in my debt'. So now I have lunch with you until the end of the month."

El grinned. "You're cool."

Alex bowed, still in her seat. "Thank you," she said exaggeratedly. "I'm not even sure why you think so, but whatever. If you say I'm cool, I'll take the compliment. I'm so cool people freeze just looking at me. Not to be vain or anything."

El and I both laughed, and Peter came over with his tray of food. He sat down next to El, the seat in front of Alex.

"Hi, Neal." he noticed El and with a voice of almost longing, he said, "Hi, El."

Looks like someone had a cru-ush.

"Hi, Peter," El said obliviously, biting into her cookie.

Alex looked at me and sort of smirked toward El and Peter. I struggled not to laugh.

For the first time, Peter seemed to notice Alex. He crinkled his eyebrows in confusion.

"What're _you _doing here?" he asked, though he was more of asking it as a simple question, not meaning to be offensive. "You're a senior, aren't you?"

Alex nodded, dipping her carrot in ranch dressing. She took a bite. "Yep. I have freshman lunch for another week and a half." she explained what she'd done in her freshman year.

"So you're Neal's sister?" Peter asked. Alex nodded again and took another bite of her carrot stick.

"Mm-hmm. Alex Caffrey, at your service." she bowed in exaggeration. Well, she bowed as much as she could while still sitting at the table.

"So how's the day going so far?" Alex asked.

"Boring," El answered for me. I nodded in agreement.

"That's kind of to be expected." Alex said. "It's the first day of school—everyone is still kind of getting the feel of it."

"Well, I made an enemy." I said. "So I guess that's not so boring."

"Really? Who? And how?"

"Ryan Wilkes," I said. "Peter here was sitting next to me in History, and when Ryan came in, he like, growled at Peter to move as though he was in charge. Peter had been there first, and so that's what I told Ryan. He said that if I crossed him, he would give me trouble, and I called him an idiot. Then El told him to back off, so he sort of glared at me and shoved his way to a seat near the back of the room."

"He _is _an idiot," El put in. "He plays football and when we were in junior high, he was like the king of the school. He bullied a lot of students and so everyone that went there was terrified of him. So unless they wanted a bloody nose—or worse—they never crossed him and did what he told them to do. But luckily, for whatever reason, when I step in he backs off."

"Maybe he likes you," I suggested.

El wrinkled her nose. "Ew! I don't think so. And trust me, if he does like me, the feeling certainly isn't mutual."

"Okay..." I said, thinking. "Maybe he likes your spunk."

"My spunk?"

"Yeah," Alex said. "I've experienced criminals like that. Even CGK was like that. They like to listen to you rant and rave and be mean to them for their own pleasure. But try not to cross the line, or they won't be so amused anymore."

"But I'm just being me!" El exclaimed.

"Exactly. That's why he likes it."

El blew out a breath, blowing her bangs up. "I hate him," she said finally.

"Don't we all," Peter muttered.

"But why doesn't someone challenge him?" I asked. "Why doesn't anyone stand up to him, or band together against him? Surely he can't fight off three people!"

Peter leaned forward. "He has most of the football team on his side." he explained. "Or the boys that _used _to be on the football team, anyway. That's seven other people. You wouldn't stand a chance."

"Seven, huh?" I said thoughtfully. "So including him, that would be eight..." I looked at Alex. "I take four, you take the other four?" I suggested.

Alex shrugged. "If it comes down to it, I could. But it would be better if you didn't fight on school grounds—you can get into a lot of trouble, especially if you start it. But I'm not sure it would really be fair."

"What?" I asked. "What wouldn't be fair?"

"Me and you fighting against them." Alex said. "I mean, they're only some fourteen-year-old football-playing wimps."

"Alex," I said simply, "If it's four to one, I think it evens out."

"Wait." Peter and El said at the same time. They looked at each other, and then El spoke.

"You can't take on four people at once—that's crazy! Especially any of _those _four!"

"You'd be pummeled," Peter said. "You wouldn't stand a chance!"

I looked at him. "About a year ago I fought with six grown men at once, three of which I knocked out."

"What happened to the other three?" El asked.

"One went and got help," I replied. "I fought with the other two before help came." I grimaced at the memory. One of the guys that came had had a Taser which he didn't at all mind using. "But anyway," I continued, "Those were older guys, trained at martial arts. These pimps have only played junior high football."

"And we all know how Alex fights," El said, chuckling. "I remember that one time when you fought with those guys in the market about six months ago. I was over by the bananas with my mom when you came through with that guy with the scrunched-up nose. What a mess!"

Alex flushed, embarrassed. "Yeah. Unfortunately, I was so distracted with that one guy that I didn't see the other guy come up behind me with the chloroform."

"Chlor-what?" Peter repeated, confused.

"Chloroform is that nauseatingly sweet stuff that's soaked on handkerchiefs and rags that makes you black out when you breathe it in." Alex explained. She grimaced. "I've certainly had my fair share of that stuff. I wonder if I'll become immune to it one day for how much I get of it, though I doubt it."

"How often?" El asked.

"Huh?"

"How often do you get chloroform?" El clarified.

Alex shrugged. "On average, about once every two or three weeks. But I also get other poisons. When I was figuring out that mystery where I found my mom and Neal, someone put some kind of poison on my steering wheel in my car that made me black out. Luckily I parked before I crashed, though."

"Geez," El said, shaking her head. "I didn't know what you went through. And you _like _solving mysteries?"

"I like seeing the mystery solved and the people I helped happy." Alex answered. "And most people don't know what goes on because I don't like to talk about it a lot. But I can tell that you wouldn't talk about it with other people. Besides, you're Neal's friends, and in the short time I've known him, he's never made friends with a jerk."

Just then the bell rang, and we all stood up with our trays. We dumped the rest of the stuff in the trash cans and set the plastic trays on the table provided.

"See you later, Alex," I said. She nodded.

"Bye," and she was off.

"What do you have next?" El asked me.

I looked at my schedule. "Art with Mr. Daniels."

"Me too!" El exclaimed. "Make sure we get a spot next to each other. Peter, what d'you have?"

"Earth Science," Peter said. "But that's okay—I can find new friends there."

"Ryan Wilkes has Earth Science next period, too." A chirpy voice said behind me. I turned and saw Sara Ellis, the girl from Algebra who wore pink. She was talking to Peter. "I think you should, like, totally be careful, because I heard he had a total grudge on you and Neal—something about taking his seat? Whatever. He's a loser, but there's, like, no telling what he'll do."


	5. Chapter 5

I walked in to Art class, where many desks were lined up in a U-shape. Most of the desks were already taken, and some of the kids were sitting on top of their desks, chatting with their neighbors. Mr. Daniels, a man about twenty-five years old with shoulder length honey-colored hair tied in a ponytail, was sitting on his own desk, sketching in a pad. He didn't even look up when El and I entered.

We sat in desks side by side, talking quietly until the bell rang. When it rang, Mr. Daniels immediately closed his sketchbook and stood up, going to the front of the room.

"Hello, class," he said in a friendly voice. He didn't even tell the people sitting on the desks to sit down in their seats the right way. "My name is Mr. Daniels. This is probably going to be the most challenging class you'll have this semester, but I'm sure it will be fun." He went to his desk and picked up a bag filled with folded slips of paper. He shook the bag, and then said:

"Today you'll each reach into this bag and take out a folded piece of paper. On each of these papers is a word. All of the art you create this semester will be based off of that word. At the end of the semester, for your mid-term exam, you will make a piece of art that shows all you have learned throughout the semester. Any questions?"

"Why?" one of the boys sitting on the desks asked boldly. His question caused the rest of the class to giggle. I guessed that he was the class clown.

"Why? _Why?!_" Mr. Daniels exclaimed. "It is art! A beautiful piece of art evokes feelings and emotions, causing your heart to beat faster and your blood to rush in your ears! Art is worth a _million _words—you can express so much in one scene, be it drawing, painting, sculpture, or pastel! You lose yourself in the details and want to stay in your imagination forever! Ah, a wonderful place to be! When you show everything you've learned you show that you've tried hard to get to that point and that makes you stronger. It can give a special message to anyone around you!"

Clearly this guy loved art. He was also mildly crazy. I decided I liked him. I looked at El. From the look on her face, she felt the same way about him as I did. She looked at me through amused eyes.

The bag was passed around, and soon it came to me. I reached in and took out one of the slips of paper. "Cat," it read. I crinkled my eyebrows. Cat? I was supposed to draw a cat? It was almost too easy. Next to me, El read her slip of paper.

"Water," she read. She looked up at me with an incredulous look on her face. "Is he joking?"

"I am not joking, Miss Burke," Mr. Daniels said, overhearing her. "You must use the subject on your paper in your art. Yours is water—you could do anything from a leaky faucet to a misty waterfall. It's your imagination." He walked away to talk to another girl.

El looked at me. "What'd you get?" she asked.

"Cat," I answered. "It's a good thing there's lots of different kinds of cats. I think I'll draw a saber tooth tiger with CGK's face for my first assignment. He was as mean as one, so it would fit." I smirked. "And it's _creative_."

El rolled her eyes. "I know, right? You'd think by the way Mr. Daniels was talking he'd never heard of 'no creativity'. That would be_ moi_. I have no imagination—how can I create with it?"

I shrugged. "Draw a glass of water sitting on a windowsill. That's easy and you don't have to be that creative to do it."

El blew out a breath as she received the piece of paper and pencil from a student who was handing them out.

"I suppose I'll have to make the best of it." she said, picking up her pencil. She drew a quick line across the page, then started drawing smaller lines around it so that it looked like wood. She looked up at me after a moment. "After all, I have it for the rest of the semester."

I nodded and drew the outline of a tiger's back. "Might as well make the best of it," I agreed.

When I got home that afternoon, Mom was waiting for me. A gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and went to find a snack.

"So how was your day?" Mom asked as I took out a jar of peanut butter and an apple. I washed the apple and sat at the table as I said:

"Well, I made an enemy, therefore almost getting into a fight, saw weird people and ugly faces everywhere I went, ate gross food, and found a person a lot like CGK, but who has legal yet inhumane punishments for other people." I shrugged as I spread some peanut butter on the apple, and then took a bite out of it. "Pretty normal day. You?"

"Oh, stop it." Mom said, pulling a chair to her and sitting down. She knew I was only joking. "Tell me how it really went."

So as I ate the peanut butter-covered apple, I told her about my day, including Coach Perez, El Burke, Peter Burke, Sara Ellis, Mozzie from P.E., and Ryan Wilkes.

"I think one of these days I'm going to end up fighting with Ryan." I concluded. "I can tell he's really itching to do it."

"Be careful," Mom said, knowing not to try and discourage me from doing it. My mind was set.

"And I'm always ready and willing to help," Alex said, having stayed in the kitchen as I talked. She was eating ants on a log.

"Thanks," I said, giving her a crooked grin. "As good as I am, I still don't think I could fight off eight guys."

Alex shrugged. "Yeah, me neither." But then she gave me a knowing grin. "Even though you _are _Neal Caffrey..."

Simultaneously the three of us finished, "...For crying out loud!"

My birthday was in one week—September 2. It was on a Thursday this year. I wondered if anyone remembered—no one was even mentioning it. I didn't mind so much. I knew at least Mom would remember. She always did, and always did something to make me feel special. And she knew what I wanted for presents.

I don't know how she found out, but the day before my birthday, El gave me a box wrapped in green wrapping paper.

"Open it tomorrow," she said.

"Thanks, but why'd you give it to me today if you knew my birthday was tomorrow?" I asked her.

"Because I'm going to be sick tomorrow." El said. "I won't be able to come to school."

"Is there a test I don't know about?" I asked her only half-jokingly.

"No, probably not." El said, shrugging. "But I get a bad cold about every two months, and I've scheduled the next one for tomorrow. I mean, I haven't scheduled it exactly, but I timed it for every time I get it, and the next one is tomorrow, so I put it on my calendar."

I laughed, but then I realized she was serious. "Oh," I said. "That's kind of weird."

El shrugged, not the least bit offended. "I guess that explains both of us," she said.

I started to say something else, but then I stopped. I could hear shouting.

"Do you hear that?" I asked El. She nodded, putting a finger over her lips to signal me to be quiet.

"It sounds like it's coming from the courtyard," she said after a moment.

"It sounds like people cheering on a fight," I said. But then I realized what I'd said and I could feel the blood draining from my face.

"Peter," I said simply, and I took off toward the courtyard. I could hear El running just behind me.

I hoped my instinct was wrong this time, but it probably wasn't. It had to be Peter and Ryan. Who else could it be? The seniors, juniors, and sophomores were in class—only the freshmen were having free period right now. And I didn't know of anyone else brave enough to fight on school grounds.

When we got to the courtyard, I pushed my way through the crowd and to the front. Sure enough, Ryan was fighting with Peter, and guys whom I could only assume were his football buddies were standing just behind him, ready to intervene at any time.

Without even stopping to think about it, I ran forward and punched Ryan square in the face, knocking him off of Peter. The crowd instantly silenced, shocked that I would defy His Majesty The King.

I helped Peter up from the ground while keeping an eye on Ryan. Ryan groggily pushed himself up and stared at me. He recognized me instantly.

"You!" he seethed.

"Get out of here, Ryan." I said evenly, staring at him.

He scoffed. "Yeah. Right. Like I'm afraid of you."

"You should be," I replied, matching his tone. "I've fought with guys more tough than you. And won."

"Uh-huh," Ryan said, clearly not believing me. "Have you fought with eight before—_alone_?"

"I've fought with six men at a time a lot less pimpy than any of you," I said simply.

"And besides," a voice said behind me. "He _won't _be fighting alone."

I recognized Alex's voice immediately, and I briefly wondered how she'd gotten here.

"Huh," Ryan said, and I noticed a small trace of nervousness in his voice. "If it isn't big sis. What's the matter, pretty boy? Too weak to fight yourself?"

"I can't believe I'm hearing this," I said. "I have _one _person backing me up, whereas _you _have seven."

There was a tittering through the crowd, and I heard comments such as, "He's got you there, Wilkes" and "That's gotta burn".

"Bring it on, Caffrey," Ryan hissed. He doubled up his fists and stepped toward me, and the other guys did the same.

The fight was so fast I can't even remember how I did it. Alex and I worked together, and in the end all of them were in a tangled heap on the ground. We were careful not to really hurt anyone, otherwise we'd get in huge trouble.

But we ended up getting in trouble anyway.

Just as we finished fighting, the principal came storming through.

"_What _is the meaning of this?" he bellowed. Then he saw the damage Alex and I had done.

"All of you—my office, _now_!" he ordered. The football guys untangled themselves and got up, glaring at Alex and me. Me, Alex, Peter, El, Ryan, and Ryan's clones all walked to the principal's office, where we waited a few minutes before going in.

When we went in, Alex immediately said, "It was my fault, Mr. Benson. Don't blame these kids."

"It's just as much my fault as it is hers," I jumped in. "I punched Ryan first."

"But Ryan was already beating up Peter anyway." El said. "Alex and Neal were just defending Peter from the others. And then when Neal started fighting with Ryan, Alex was backing him up so that Neal wouldn't get hurt."

Mr. Benson held up his hand. "Alex, I can understand that you'd want to defend your brother. I've known you long enough to know that you'll defend the right people. But this is on school grounds and that's not allowed."

"So you're saying we should let other people get beat up?" El demanded. "Ryan was beating up Peter for his own fun—no reason at all. And then when Neal was defending Peter, Ryan got mad and was getting ready to fight with Neal. I went and got Alex, because otherwise Neal _and _Peter would've been beaten up. So you see? Neal and Alex were defending Peter from being beaten to a pulp. Ryan and his clones are really the main ones at fault here."

Mr. Benson shook his head. "You all broke the rules. You were all fighting. You each get detention today and tomorrow."

"But what about me?" El asked. "I didn't fight."

"You got Alex for the purpose of fighting." Mr. Benson said. "That's just as much against the rules as if you did fight."

"Mr. Benson," Alex said quickly, "Neal's birthday is tomorrow, and we were supposed to celebrate it after school tomorrow. Couldn't we have detention on Friday instead?"

Mr. Benson shook his head. "I'm sorry, but no teacher will be available for detention on Friday—remember, it's the half day because of the teacher's meeting."

Ryan smirked and said to me in an undertone, "Looks like it's gonna be the same here as at that mansion—you don't get everything you want here, either. Serves _you _right, _Killer's Boy_."

And with that, Ryan received another bruise to his collection.

**~WC~**

**Okay, so yes – I DO know that Neal's real birthday is March 21****st****, but for this it had to be at the beginning of the school year. You'll understand why later…**

**Review? :)**


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